


The Inheritance that Nobody Wanted

by piades (RabbitPie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, No Romance, Rituals, Varia Arc (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), only chaos, witch as a default term
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitPie/pseuds/piades
Summary: Maintaining connections between the mafia and witches was challenging, and marriage has always been a traditional way to maintain alliances.





	The Inheritance that Nobody Wanted

The mafia weren’t entirely ignorant of witching society -- the Vongola, for example, had once taken care to maintain the pretense they were a witch family and still occasionally moved in witching circles. Many witches were aware of the mafia, and a few (notably Mundungus Fletcher) took advantage of loopholes in the law that allowed them to sell not-quite muggle artefacts to them. The relationship was distant and a shadow of its former self, but mutually beneficial.

The Blacks and the Vongolas had once had a deal: the Blacks would help the Vongola maintain their appearance as an old and insular pureblood line, and in return they would assist the Blacks by giving them land to raise their greyhounds and a place worthy of their squibs. The old heads were suspicious, however, and wanted more insurance that they would not be stabbed in the back. And so a Black and a Vongola once created a contract ensured their heirs would marry in one hundred years. 

It must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Will will never know. Those who made the pact and cursed their lines are long dead.

 

Good thing, too.

 

Vongola Ninth tapped a finger against his desk. It rang with the sound of metal on thick wood. The ring felt thick around his finger. It would need to be moved soon. He had chosen Tsunayoshi as his successor: that was why Reborn was training him, after all. But could he do it? Hand over the ring, and with it, the vow his predecessor had sworn…

The old vow of marriage had been made to a witch family that had been made had well and truly fallen. Timoteo had checked: Noone even carried the Black name anymore. Vongola had been careful to stay out of the line of fire as the witches had torn themselves apart. He’d watched the Blacks fall, and hoped that their destruction would be complete before the hundred years were up. He did not want to subject himself or his family to Black insanity. He’d kept what remained of Vongola’s magical feelers active, and read the reports as the family dwindled until only the black sheep, criminal and prisoner Sirius Black carried the name. When the man was declared dead, the lump in his throat finally melted.

That should have been the end of it.

So  _ why _ was the old contract that kept record of the marriage vow still active? All Vongola’s remaining allies in the witching world were too leery of the dangerous magics involved to give him a clear answer. All he could do was go with his intuition and his logic: and both were pointing him in the same direction. The contract deemed the close relatives of the Black line to be legitimate heirs.

This was why he could  _ not _ give the rings over to Tsunayoshi. Not yet. If the Blacks’ heirship went to the eldest, then it would go to the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, a powerful witch and accomplished killer who saw the mafia as rabbits who’d look nicer with their necks broken and their pelts around her shoulders. Vongola would certainly disabuse her of such a notion, but Tsunayoshi could not. Not yet.

Xanxus… Timoteo shook the thought from his head and grief tugged at his chest. If the witches had not fallen so deeply into war and their allies and alliances had remained strong… he could have given Xanxus the Vongola blood he wished for. Xanxus could handle Bellatrix. But to use him like that, when he had failed him so badly already… Perhaps things had turned out as best they could.

He couldn’t inflict Bellatrix upon Tsuna or Xansus. There would be a Vongola heir  _ only _ when Timoteo or Bellatrix was dead.

 

Xanxus did not cooperate with this plan.

 

Harry met Andromeda at her home. The door opened as he approached and let loose an awful stench. The smell hit Harry’s nose and did terrible things to his sinuses, he winced and slapped a hand over his face and backed away like he’d been socked in the stomach. Ew.

“Come in, Harry!” Andromeda called from somewhere within in stink.

Bravely, Harry entered. He met the source of the stink and was quickly talked through how to change a nappy. By the time Teddy was de-pooped (oh god, did all witch baby poo explode all over the place, or was that just a Teddy thing?) and Harry had finished scrubbing his hands, he was starting to wonder why he was fond of either of these people. Adulthood? Horrible. (But then Andromeda cooed and Teddy, and the little monster smiled, and shit.)

“Now I didn’t bring you out here for a lesson in childcare,” Andromeda said with Teddy on one hip. He followed her at a gesture, and she pulled a small ring box and a fancy-looking scroll from the cabinet. She paused, a grave mood settling on her features, and she sat on a couch and placed Teddy beside her. 

He was just old enough to sit on his own. It was a new development. Despite the gravity of the situation, Harry felt proud.  _ His godson! Sitting! On a couch!  _ Was this how parents felt?

Andromeda, who must be already used to this new skill, drew his attention to the box by opening it. Upon a dark green bed there lay a ring with a crest he’d seen at Grimmauld Place. Harry felt ill. He’d inherited Kretcher, and the house, and wasn’t particularly happy to have either of them. What more did Sirius was to give him? And shouldn’t this, whatever it was, be Teddy’s?

There was something about Andromeda's expression that made Harry sure he didn’t want whatever this was.

“This is the Black family ring,” she said. “Sirius willed it to me, along with headship of our house. And…” she put the scroll on the coffee table, and with a touch to the ribbon that held it, it unfurled. Harry leaned in. He couldn’t read the text. It was all gibberish to him. Andromeda’s hesitance and disgust was telling Harry that he did  _ not  _ want whatever this was.

“This,” she gestured to the parchment, “is why I’m begging you to take it.”

Harry frowned, and picked up the ring--

Andromeda shouted. Harry shouted. Pain spiked in his finger and tears burst into his eyes as the ring clung to his finger. Teddy started crying, and both adults forced themselves into silence.

“Andromeda!” Harry hissed, shaking his hand as if that would get the ring off. What the hell had happened?

But then he glanced at the scroll, which was suddenly legible to him.

A marriage contract. The Vongola family? He hadn’t heard of them!

_ What the shit? _

_ Andromeda! _

 

The battle for the Sky Ring and future leadership of the Vongola had come to its finale. The onlookers were tense and quiet. Both combatants were still upright. Xanxus was frozen in the terrible ice, standing, but frozen and a passive observer to the world that went on around him. Tsuna stood under his own power, but wavered. He collapsed to the ground.

He’d… won? No, not yet. He had beaten Xanxus, but he had not obtained his ring.  _ And he couldn’t find the strength to move _ .

Then a crack snapped in his ears, and the ground beneath him was smooth and cool. He heard Xanxus’ groan as the man slumped to the ground next to him, apparently even more worse for wear than Tsuna himself.

“Aaa…” a voice said uncertainly.

Tsuna forced his elbows beneath him and looked up. His neck, arms and shoulders protested with all they had. He took in his surroundings in slow increments. They were outside. It was day. (Hadn’t it been night a moment ago?) They were in a field on a polished rock slab that looked like it belonged in an occult horror movie, and he, Xanxus, and the European-looking guy across from him were the sacrifices. Maybe this guy wasn’t mafia? Surely, given the laws of probability, it was about time he met some non-mafia Europeans?

The man spoke in a jumble of foreign syllables that Tsuna’s brain was simply too tired to make sense of. He then repeated himself, more urgently. But Tsuna was distracted by the small cuts on the man’s face and arms, and how the blood that came out of them seemed to wriggle its way down to the ground in a way that wasn’t entirely due to gravity. And once there--it dipped into grooves on the floor, grooves that were tinted brown and filling with more than this man’s blood.

Almost not wanting to look, Tsuna forced himself to regard his own body. Cuts that had stopped bleeding were flowing again. Xanxus was unconscious notdead. 

This was definitely a creepy blood ritual.

_ How was this happening to him? _

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm hoping that this ritual forces them not to kill eachother cause that's probably the only way all three of them are getting out alive... XD
> 
> I have no intention of continuing this it was a brain fart. >.<
> 
> Blanket permission granted to remix and or extend this fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
